In for a Penny
by TheJauntyJabberwock
Summary: Written on mobile. When Crane manages to slip into a middle school position, will he be able to help the troubled youth? Or will he only make things worse?
1. Chapter 1

AN: As usual, I'm on mobile so please forgive typos. This work will be pretty short, maybe 3 or 4 chapters tops.

—-

She sat rigid in the chair in front of his desk, posture tense and glancing back to the door every so often. Pixie cut hair in dark messy chops, a gaunt frame draped in oversized black t-shirt with a long sleeve shirt beneath and jeans that bagged enough to further conceal any hint of femininity. The girl was thirteen, and had no idea she was sitting accross from one of Gothams most intellectually devious villains. Because this wasn't Gotham. It was Texas.

Jonathan Crane had slipped into the middle school system almost too easily, establishing himself as a councilor. The former professor had little issue presenting himself in the attire worthy of the position, and the sparce little office contained little else than a bookshelf and a single metronome ball set on the desk. Two chairs sat in front of the dark wood desk, stacks of files sat beside and on top of it. One was open for him now. Crane kept no plants in his office. No motivational posters. No toys. His attire and office both painted a blank slate, betrayed no true personality save for the lack of one.

He let her sit in silence a moment longer, then pulled her attention away from the door with a quick clearing of his throat.

"Do you know why you are here?" Her brow wrinkled in irritation, though her eyes could only stand to stay on his face for a flicker of time. Her voice held the annoyance more clearly,

"I told them, we were trying to get back IN to the building. They locked us out of the building on our way in from track."

"They being your classmates? Locked you and Miss Smith outside?" She nodded once, so he continued,

"And the gym teacher simply let them?" A frustrated huff escaped her with a growl of words,

"Yes!" She stopped herself to force a deep breath, closed her eyes. She spoke again with strained control, "we pounded on the doors, and the gym teacher came right out and looked at us, then closed the gym doors inside the building. We had to try the outside doors until we found one unlocked to get back in. We weren't skipping gym we were trying to get back inside. "

Miss Smith was a quiet girl, artistic type who stayed out of the way. Her crime, as far as students and facilty were concerned, was in the way she dressed. All black, black lipstick even, the baby bat was not openly welcome. Neither, was the girl seated in front of him.

"Well, your friend has already gotten to go back to class. And you are here sitting with me. Do you know why?" Her eyes narrowed into dagger slits and her voice quivered with effort not to be a low growl. Her efforts failed.

"Because she's quiet. And I'm not."

"That is part of it. We had some further concerns that were brought to my attention." Somehow her eyes narrowed even further without closing entirely. She looked away, out the window, and crossed her arms.

He gave her a moment before he continued. His own voice remained somewhere between nuetral and pleasant. A more well practiced mask than she could hope for at her age.

"Why do you have spare clothes in your locker?"

"In case something happens to mine. Like rain."

"And the cans of food?"

"For lunch." Another pause. She stubbornly stuck to staring out the window. Until his next words.

"Lift up the sleeves on your shirt." That got her attention quickly, eyes wide.

"What? No! I don't have to do that!" He let a single brow raise punctuate his limited patience. It worked as well on children and teenagers as it did on crazed inmates. She shrank back, but froze instead of complying.

"Well, I suppose I could call your home to inform them-"

"No!" Panick. For a split second he saw her arms move from crossed to hugging herself, but with nails digging in to the shirtsleeves in tension, before she recovered the fake composure, "I mean..." A tremble moved down her arms as she pried her fingernails back. It looked like it physically hurt to say the next words, "please don't." Children really can be dramatic. Crane folded his hands in front of him on the desk and waited.

After a moment, shaking hands pushed up her sleeves. Beneath them, olive skin waited to greet him, though it was interrupted with not what he expected exactly. It wasn't the fresh scabs or pale scars from a razor. It wasn't needle marks from how he had overheard the other students calling her a crack baby or accusing her of being an addict. In her skin was thread. Dark black sewing thread created decorative exes and cross-stitched swirls across a flesh canvas.

"Don't tell her."

"The foster mom you live with? You don't think she'd be concerned?" A contempt filled scoff thrust itself from her chest. It was all the answer she offered, so he continued.

"Why do you do it, then?" She raised a brow.

"You wouldn't understand." The sleeves rolled down again, jamming her thumbs into the holes she had chewed into the fabric for them.

"Try me."

"Pft, all you grown ups are the same. What's it matter?" Such a typically...teenage response might have bored him. If it had been delivered alone. He waited for her to break the offered silence. Waited for her to squirm under the weight if it. Watched her struggle between the belief that no one will listen, and the human drive to be heard. The silence broke her down first.

"It's not like it's dangerous. I sanitize the needle. I'm not suicidal or anything."

"And the thread?"

"What?" The single word was sharp, ready to cut before he could, but he remained calm.

"How do you sanitize the thread you're putting into your skin?"

"O-oh. I uh...didn't think about...that." She shuffled in her seat to avoid confronting embarassment.

"I just...I don't know."

"I think you do know. The other students have seen you do it in class. They've complained to the teachers. It frightens them." He watched the corner of her mouth twitch. The faintest hint of a smirk's shadow.

"So what if they are scared? They're-" she yanked the building energy back again. Fighting, still fighting, to keep it all bottled up. Her hand and arms shook with the effort. Her hands shook more often than they didn't, leading to one of the many cruel nicknames she had acquired.

"I guess...it just helps. I get tense, and it helps."

"You get angry, and it helps you control it." She settled further back into the chair that was already too big for her.

"Yeah. I guess. Are you going to tell her?"

"Not if you don't want me to." She wasn't so certain.

"Okay so...how am I in trouble?"

"Is it so difficult to believe I want to help you, Penny?" Her nose scrunched up.

"Liar. Are we done? Just suspend me already."

Instead of giving in he side-stepped, his voice never loosing an inch of confidence.

"It's understandable to be angry, given your circumstances-" instead of finding comfort or understanding she exploded in an outburst, jumped to her feet and slammed her hands down on the desk between them despite her lack of height,

"You don't know anything! None of you have any idea! You're all so stupid!" He didn't flinch. Or raise his voice to put her in check. He remained, still, perfectly calm. He waited for her to lash out further, but instead she stood frozen. Tried not to cry from pure rage. And failed.

"The world has betrayed you. The people who were supposed to protect you have hurt you. Your peers, your teachers, your parents, have all given you cruelty. Or indifference. So you expect me to be the same."

"Why wouldn't you be? The hell do you care about some other worthless kid passing through? It's your job to pretend you give a damn, then disappear like everyone else. I'm not falling for it." Not this time.

"Alright. Then let's discuss this." He pulled a list out and handed it to her. Confused, she took it.

"I asked our librarian to pay attention to what you read, given you spend your lunch and mornings there. You've read the entire psychology section, and put in requests for more advanced materials."

"I'm not allowed to go to the local library."

"Or anywhere but school and home, your foster mother runs a tight ship. You're also not allowed to join after school activities, and as I understand it if you or the other girls miss the school bus you face disciplinary actions at home. Am I incorrect?"

Now, at last, she looked at him with suspicion.

"How...why, do you know all that?"

"You could say I've taken a special interest in you." She swayed, face going green and eyes widening. Apprehension, unease, nausea. The mask fell back into place on her face, though her legs backed off from his desk. She didn't sound angry anymore. Or scared. She sounded tired.

"What do you want?"

"I told you, I would like to help you."

"You're lying. Leave me alone."

"You will see my sincerity for yourself very soon. Everyone else assumes your anger means you're stupid. But you're not stupid, are you Penny? You're hurt. And your planning." He earned the glare again and a calculated,

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course you do. But don't worry. It will be our little secret. I'm going to tell the principal we had a good talk and I think that's all you will need. That you're very sorry, and you're ready to go back to class now. You are ready to return to class, aren't you Penny?" She still regarded him with cautious suspicion, but wasn't sure what else to do but nod.

"I could tell them you're a creep." She might not have meant to say that out loud. But he responded with the same calm.

"We both know no one will believe you." And they did. She did. So she said nothing more. The confusion still played over her face as her juvenile mind raced to try to figure out what this is and what it meant. She only glanced back at the grinning man once as she left the office.


	2. Chapter 2

Penny had kept her head down. She hadn't returned to his office, and she had done everything in her power to avoid him, scuttling away in the crowd any time he took to the halls between class periods. As if he couldn't watch her go from his height. It did little more than make him chuckle, the way she held fast to her suspicions. She stopped going to the library. She was more careful than ever not to be alone, accepting the mockery of her classmates over the alternative. None of this would do her any good, it would not prevent what was coming. She might have known that, somewhere in the pin-pricks of her skin. A storm was coming. She couldn't tell if she wanted to breath it in or take shelter, he on rare occasion would catch her eyeing him with curiosity before she fled.

A week passed this way. And then she was called into his office. It was a brutal reminder that the adults were the ones who had say. She paused at the front doors, glancing between them and the section of office that held the principal, assistant principal, counselor and nurses offices. Her head swayed between the two. Her legs had just started to carry her towards the front doors out of the building, when his voice cut through the idea.

"There you are, I was worried you wouldn't show up." His smug smile earned balled fists at her side, but when he motioned for her to step inside his office heavy footsteps obliged.

She trudged in behind him and threw herself into the chair with sullen temper worthy of her age. He made no comment, sweeping behind the desk.

"You haven't been to the library." Her jaw set. She said nothing.

"I took the liberty of acquiring this for you." He slid three large books across his desk, towards her. For a split second she looked at them with a mixture of confusion and interest. She started reaching for the first, then her eyes hardened and she swiped the books onto the floor.

"No." She managed to make eye contact with him, but the moment he sat forward she lost her resolve and flinched away. He didn't have to speak, she was already scooping the books up off the floor without having to think about it. It was a clear conscious effort to stop herself.

"Leave them there then, if you like." Now she wasn't sure what to do. She sat on folded legs on the floor, books stacked in her arms. After some thought she decided,

"I'll keep them. I suppose. I still don't trust you." He chuckled, and she wasn't sure what to do with that either.

"You work very hard to keep to yourself. And yet, you still have these frequent outbursts. You still mouth off and lash out. Some might say you're acting out for attention."

"I don't care what any of you think."

"Everyone cares-"

"Not me. I don't need approval. Or friends. Or family. It's all worthless. I'll make it on my own."

"You can't make it on your own. You're not legally allowed to work yet. You still rely on an adult to supply you with food, shelter, necessities. You rely on the school system to provide you with education."

"I'm a job. She gets paid for dealing with us. You all get paid too. Pretend you care enough to pass. Whatever. I just have to tolerate it and I get to go to college."

"You detest the school system here, but you want to go to college?"

"College is for people who want to be there. I won't be held back." He laughed, and it sounded insulting.

"You think college is different from primary school? I think you'll find much of the same. Spoiled kids who are only there because mommy and daddy demand them to be. Professors more concerned with ethics than progress. The only difference between college and public school, is that college is a for profit organization. So. How are you planning to pay for it?" She heard the hatred in his voice and couldn't comprehend why.

"The state will. All I have to do is behave, and I can go anywhere in Texas for free, as long as it's public. All foster kids get it."

"And you believed them?" The color drained from her face.

"What do you mean?"

"I find it curious that you would believe such a fairy tale, without bothering to look into the details. True enough, you'll receive a tuition fee waver. But how will you pay for your books? Your other expenses? Food and board? You still have to get accepted into college on your own. Do you know where you're going to apply?"

"Stop talking! I'll figure it out!" Don't take this from her.

"Of course. I'm sure you will. Have you given thought as to why you want to go? Not everyone decides on college, after all."

"They said I couldn't do it."

"They?" She glared at the floor.

"Ah. Your parents?" She clutched the books tighter to her chest and corrected in a hiss,

"Everyone."

He gave that a moment.

"So you want to prove them wrong. Do you keep a journal?" The suspicious glare had him quickly add, "I'm not looking to read it. Bottling everything up is only going to hurt you more."

"Too risky."

"To write things down in a house with eight other girls?" She nodded. He nodded.

"Do they bully you?" She looked towards the door. He filled it in,

"Worse than here at school?" Silence answered that for him.

"I see. It's difficult, having no outlet. That's why the thread in your arms." He reached into his drawer and drew out some scissors, some gauze, and some rubbing alcohol. Set them each on some paper towels.

"I will let you borrow those books. In return, you need to do something for me. Remove those stitches in your arms. They're going to get infected, and that will be more trouble than it's worth. From now on when you feel that frustration, try chanelling it into something more productive. I have a journal here for you, if you'd like it. It has a lock. And a key." She didn't look like she understood. But after a moment she stood up. She rolled up her sleeves and began snipping the thread to pull it out of her skin. He watched her work with sure hands, no sign of any of it hurting. She worked quickly, stacking the bloodied thread on the paper towel on the desk and then cleaning her arms with the alcohol. He reached up to wrap the arms for her once that was done, but she insisted on doing it herself. When she was done he nodded, and slid the journal over. She set it on top of the other three books. A study on how hallucinogenic states effect the human psyche, a chemistry book, and an herbology book with a focus on psychotropics.

"I have another appointment set for next week. If you need to stop by before then, your teachers have been instructed to allow you to come to the office should you require. I trust you won't abuse this privilege?" She quickly shook her head.

"Good. I will be checking your arms. If you start up again, I will inform your foster mother. Is there anything you'd like to discuss before you go?"

Penny thought about it. She looked to the door. She thought harder. She opened her mouth,

"No."

"Then I will check in with your progress in two days."

—

Of course he intended to read her journal. He had a key of his own, and it had been more than easy enough to bribe a student to steal it. Penny had been keeping it on her person at all times, but gym meant changing out and leaving your books behind. All of them. Janette had snagged the item and brought it to him flawlessly, and in return he had made sure the girls last three days she skipped school wouldn't be reported back to her parents. He would say it was as easy as taking candy from a baby, but the baby probably put up more of a fight.

"Now, lets see what you've got locked in that head of yours." He undid the lock with a victorious grin. That died into a frown. On the first page was a scratchy ball point pen sketch of his face. Not superb but he could tell it was himself. Under the drawing were the words: "I knew you were a creep."

He sat back. He may have underestimated the child. The frown was parted by the tremor of a laugh, that grew into a full cackle.


	3. Chapter 3

She arrived at second period to find a box on her desk. Orange and black wrapping paper. She froze at the sight of it and quickly eyed each of her grinning peers.

"Your freak friend got you something."

"Is it your birthday?"

"Not like she has any parents to remember it."

"Dude, low blow."

"Whatever. It's true."

"Still..."

They backed off enough to let their curiosity take hold.

"Well. Are you going to open it?" Instead of answering she regarded it with careful calculations. Was this some joke? It didn't say who it was from. It just had a pumpkin card with her name on it.

"Come on! Open it!"

"You open it." She offered, but he wasn't having it.

"No way, it's yours! I don't want something that weird!" She hesitated, too many eyes on her. Where was their English teacher? Mrs. Ross was never late. Finally it seemed she had no other choice. She peeled off the wrapping on the box. Braced herself as she opened the lid. Flinched, waited for something bad. Nothing sprung out at her. Just as she might breath a sigh of relief, the boy behind her jabbed her in the sides.

"Boo!" Laughter surrounded her. It didn't matter that she hadn't even jumped.

But inside the box, was a small half face mask. The sign said "put me on". Next to it was a small device that looked kind of like a sonic screw driver. It had a sign that said "push me." She knew better. If she was smart she would throw the lid back on it and return to sender somehow. But then, what if this was some more elaborate prank than she was used to? What if they were just waiting to laugh at her for being a coward the moment she refused? She picked up the device and pressed the button with determination not to let who ever was behind this get the best of her.

"You're not scary, Daniel, you're just annoying." She shot the curly haired boy a glare, expecting him to be behind this.

"What did you say?"

"You heard me."

"How many times am I going to have to-" he looked up past her. What? There was a strange green smoke coming out of the vents.

"What the hell is that?" The other kids quickly began to move away from the strange gas, Penny's eyes widened before she put two and two together. She put on the mask quickly, wasting no time moving out the door. More gas was coming through in the hallways, from the sounds of it the other classrooms too. Panic was spreading fast.

"I have to get out of here." She ran the rest of the way to her locker, fumbled with the combination as the first screams started, hit it in the right place to pop it open. She grabbed her backpack, shoving the clothes and food into it so quickly she wound up dropping the whole backpack to the floor. When she knelt to grab it she saw a pair of brown boots. Her eyes traveled up, past a stained red shirt and rope belt, up to a literal Scarecrow mask and hat. Pumpkins. Scarecrow. They matched.

"You...you're doing this?" The words were muffled through her own mask. The screams around them intensified, the first few people began to stumble into the hallway. She flinched, but they literally ran from the figure in front of her.

His voice came in a modified rasp, filtered through mask and possibly some kind of voice box.

"Technically, You did this. You pulled the trigger, so to speak. Aren't you going to enjoy the results?" She took a step away from him, terror filled her face.

"You...you're pinning this on me! You set me up!" Hot tears began to fall, looking around at the building chaos.

"Now now-" before he could explain she flung herself at him with a primal screech of pure rage. She was four foot six. She didn't even knock him back by an inch. She clawed and kicked at him like a toddler throwing a tantrum, he had taken worse as a child, the whole time she was screaming.

"You ruined everything! I was going to go to college! Now they'll put me in jail! You've proved that stupid woman right! Everyone right about me!" He blinked down at the tiny terror, her futile efforts to lash out at him.

"That's enough of that." He reached down and grabbed both of her wrists easily in one gloved hand, prying her off. Her struggles to squirm out of his grip were equally useless.

"You have a choice, child. Embrace the gift I have given you, embrace who you are and what you could become, or I will rip the mask off your face and leave you to join your peers. I had hope you were above them. Now prove it." Swift calculations darted through her expressions. Anger. Contempt. Stubborn will to survive.

"It's you. You told me you wanted to help me, that you'd prove it. This is what you meant?" She noticed a crazed classmate running right towards them, the Scarecrow pulled her forward to let him smack face-first into the wall of lockers with a crunch. He fell and didn't get back up.

"You've been primed to run since before I got here. So pick up your backpack," he let go of her, "and run." The tears refreshed, heavy and without pause, but she reached shaking hands down to close up her backpack and slide it on.

"I hate you."

"You hate everyone. It will be a powerful tool in your arsenal. And I think you'll find my lessons a bit more useful than waiting around for college." He glanced up at the clock on the wall.

"We have another ten minutes before the authorities arrive. Is there anyone in particular you want to watch suffer before we go?" The tears began to halt. She blinked at him.

"What?"

"Is there anyone in particular you want to see finished off before we go? One of your foster siblings, perhaps?"

A hardness settled into her expression. For the first time she looked around them and really saw what was happening. Those who had spilled into the halls were in an erratic state. She could see blood in the classroom closest to them, one of the people in the hall was clawing off the face of their peer. She shuddered. Would that be her if not for the mask? Was he going to do this regardless, had he planned it since he first arrived? She looked up at the towering Scarecrow again, the situation beginning to click.

"You knew I wanted this from day one."

"It was obvious." She flinched.

"I thought I was blending in better."

"Only to those who didn't care to look." A feverish gaze roamed the hallways again, licking her dry lips under the mask.

"I hate them."

"You have every right to." Her hands reached up for the mask on her face.

"You will get used to the slight discomfort of-" she removed the mask entirely, causing Scarecrow to frown.

"What are you doing?"

"This is a hallucinogen fog, isn't it? Some kind of drug to give them all bad trips?" She closed her eyes before she could see him nod, breathing in deep.

"I've always thought they were weak. Let's find out." He only just resisted the urge to chuckle at the delightfully interesting turn of events. She opened her eyes, pupils enlarged to make amber eyes appear dark. A shiver moved across her body.

"It's not real." She said it with some confidence, standing tall with fists clenched at her sides. She still flinched when some unseen thing came near to her, initially began to ball up with a startled little cry, but she forced herself to recover.

"No." He didn't need to instruct her to face what she feared head on. She did it on her own.

"You can't touch me. Go on. Try it. Do it already." The next flinch was minute enough to almost be missed, she brought her chin up in triumph.

"That's what I thought." A manic laugh bubbled out of her throat and she turned a grin back to him that almost made him think of the Joker.

"You. You burned down my bridge. You took away my one chance to get into college." She marched over and glared up at him, at what ever grotesque version of him would appear through the toxic haze.

"Build me another one." He knelt down to her level, fluid motion as ever.

"No. But I'll give you the tools to build your own bridge." Her jaw set in a clench, but she wound up nodding.

"Then let's go. There's nothing left for me here." They started for the front door, and Penny paused.

"Wait..." she saw the girl in all black, shivering, curled under the lockers nearby. Too terrified to move. Penny sighed and walked over to the girl.

"It's not real. You know that." The slipped the mask she had been given onto the other girl's face.

"You were never mean to me. I'd say give the survivors hell, but we both know you won't." He wasn't sure what to do with the unexpected exchange. She still had hatred burning in her eyes when she turned to follow him out the door.

—

AN: this may be a bit longer than I initially intended. Because Batman is going to have a field day with Crane showing up with an underage orphan. There is no way Bats will let that fly. Least 2 more chapters probably.


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